


Non Traditional

by Mirkys_Concubine



Series: Non Traditional Adventures of Harri Potter. [1]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Female Harry Potter, Flying, Gen, Horcruxes, Random & Short, Slytherin
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-07
Updated: 2020-12-07
Packaged: 2021-03-10 04:00:16
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 700
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27938472
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mirkys_Concubine/pseuds/Mirkys_Concubine
Summary: Female Harry Potter  - yes one ofthose.Average is what Harri Potter was and she was ok with that.A/N: possibly a short series of randomness. Enjoy.
Series: Non Traditional Adventures of Harri Potter. [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2045887
Comments: 2
Kudos: 7





	Non Traditional

**Non Traditional**

**➿➿➿➿➿➿➿➿➿➿➿**

She wasn't beautiful in the traditional sense.   
Long flowy hair? No.  
Blond? Brunette? No.  
Clear skin shades of ivory? No.  
Perfect teeth? No.  
Tall? No.  
Statuesque? No  
Too thin or curvy? Depends on the time of the month or if it's exam time.  
Average is what Harri Potter was and she was ok with that.   
Ok with the birds nest that was her hair. Kept long not because she's an _Heiress_ of a Pureblood line but the weight helped her hair stay down vs up and out like a static shock.   
Ok with her plain sensible clothes, Muggle attire setting her apart from the snobbish Purebloods. Not that Harri cared, she was comfortable.  
Ok with her glasses that had new lenses but the frame was sentimental so she kept them with a bit of tape for a lark.  
Ok with her Muggle pens and the vinyl records she purchased - Muggle music that played nicely on a old fashioned player - since walkmans were useless.  
Ok as the Seeker for Gryffindor.  
Ok without the formal jewelries, colors, clothes, that were her status symbols.   
No, Harri Potter was perfectly content merely existing, enjoying the peace and quiet before the world came to an end when she graduated. An unexpected truce between her and the self-proclaimed Dark Lord.  
The Graveyard Harri still dreamed of, not of Voldemort rising from a cauldron but the dead rising from the graves and attacking her.   
The night was noisy with the sounds of crickets and buzzed with life that was absent during the day. absent-mindedly Harry lazily glided the Quidditch pitch, bare feet feeling the buzz of magic from her broomstick, and weaving a random pattern as the bristles of the broom caressed the grass that had yet to be cut.  
Flying while standing was awkward but since trying it without shoes she was able to balance herself properly and Nimbus listened.   
Time slipped by, content to track the stars or dance with the fireflies that buzzed here and there. Lifting higher and higher, broom twirling in circles, Harri scanned the fields - she wasn't alone.   
Higher and higher she pushed the broom to fly, strands of hair uncoiling from their confines of braids, Harri was prepared for the spell aimed at her.  
Relief that it was merely a pretty ball of color and not a dangerous spell she dipped and weaved as more colors splashed color against the night backdrop. Harri felt a bubble of emotion build and build the longer she evaded - humor. It was fun to dip and like a practice ballerina, the. Balls of her foot carried her weight as her other leg lifted high in the air.   
The baggy bottoms of her pant leg rode down past her knee - highly improper she thought with a giggle - and took advantage of the momentary cease fire. The broom tilted down and Harri lived for these moments, adrenaline rushes to fill the space where her stomach dropped as she dropped like a stone.   
It was only seconds, perfect seconds of blood rushing to her ears, magic a panicked flare, and that tiny sliver of _Death Here I Come_ , before her hand clutched at the handle and she pulled. Climbing the broom so she sat backwards, the perfectly and meticulous kept bristles in her line of sight.  
Falling to the side Harri hung comfortably, the world upside down and the stars closer. It was peaceful, beautiful, until "Heiress Potter!" In the most scandalized Pureblood haughty tone that was Pansy Parkinson. "You're a Lady not a Mudblood!"  
Sigh.  
The broom gives a lurch and you roll your eyes, someone - most likely Snape - had latched onto her broom - that had better be Snape if Harri would throw an absolute fit. When her hair dragged on the soft grass she let go and fell inches with a thump.  
It didn't hurt.  
The way she was suddenly crowded and the ticking of diagnostic and basic healing spells made it seem she was at death's door.  
"I'm fine." She says but the Slytherins crowd her and she can hear Snape sigh and mutter under his breadth.  
Sometimes Harri really disliked being the Horcrux of the Dark Lord. It was simply stifling.

**Author's Note:**

> I appreciate a good Horcrux Harry, one that Voldemort is agreeable.  
> The series will probably be mismatched plots, pairings, moments, I'll try to keep them short.


End file.
